Another Holmes
by Fred is my name
Summary: Ainsley Holmes is very different from her brothers. She has always had a different sense of morality and is now working for James Moriarty.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello people of the Internet. I was bored and this is what my brain produced. I may continue it, but I dunno. Hope you like it :D**

* * *

She tugged her hair down and let it fall once more around her shoulders. She relaxed into the comfortable chair. She had had a long day and was looking forward to the sure to be interesting conversation that would be taking place soon. If she had timed it right he would be arriving home any minute now. Just as this thought crossed her mind she heard the distant sound of a key entering the lock. She smiled to herself and her heart began to beat faster in anticipation of her discovery. She heard his footsteps stutter as he walked into the entryway. Her smile widened as she imagined him spotting her shoes and bag lying by the door. She sat patiently waiting, pretending not to be counting each of his footsteps. She heard him stalk ever closer and it took all her willpower not to turn around. She heard his quiet breath behind her head and the sound of a gun being cocked. The cool metal pressed into her hair.

"You have exactly 12 seconds to explain to me who you are and what you are doing here." He said his voice a low growl.

"Is that anyway to treat a guest Jimmy? I am simply here to discuss business." She said teasingly.

"7" He said without even a hint of mirth.

"Oh fine. My name is Ainsley and I would like to work for you. Over the past week I have interrupted four of your jobs to show you my capabilities." She said hurriedly.

"That makes me want to shoot you more."

"Oh come on Jim, think about it." Ainsley said calmly, "not many criminals would be able to figure out what you are doing let alone commandeer your heist. I want to work with you. If you refuse I will just continue to mess with your plans."

"Why do you want to work for me? You are clearly a competent enough criminal on your own."

"Oh stop it you're making me blush." She said bringing back her teasing tone. He still didn't seem to be amused if the gun pressing to her head was any indication. "I ran out of things I wanted. I got everything I wanted and didn't know what else to do. Retirement was out of the question as that would be far too dull, but I really didn't know what else to do. I started taking on private clients, but soon realized that that wasn't for me. I like solving puzzles, not pickpocketing someone's ex-lover. Then I heard about your network and was intrigued. I weaseled my way in and commandeered ing to get your attention, but you didn't even try to chase me. I started trying to track down where you lived and in the meantime messed with a few more jobs." As she spoke the gun slowly pulled away from her skull.

"And what makes you think I'd hire you? I have plenty of thieves on my payroll and you only interrupted the small jobs." He said walking around to sit in front of her, though still keeping the gun pointed at her.

"Ah, but I am not a thief. I don't take things. I convince people they want to give me things."

"So you're a grifter? I have a hundred of them, what makes you any different?."

"You're an observant man, you tell me." Moriarty looked at the woman in front of him. He was holding a gun mere inches from her face, yet her face didn't show a hint of fear.

"All I can tell you are the simple facts. Judging by your voice you were born in London, but have spent quite some time in America. You travel a lot and do not have any permanent place of residence. You are not one for hard work. You have siblings, but you aren't close with them."

"And what does that tell you? I'm sure a smart man like you can figure out more than that. I know my brother can." She said the last sentence very deliberately gauging his reaction intently. He stared at her another second, taking in her dark, curly hair and her bluish grey eyes.

"Ah, so you are a Holmes. How do I know you are not here for your brothers in some pathetic attempt to infiltrate my network?"

"You said it yourself: I have siblings, but I am not close with them. My brothers and I have always had a difference of opinion when it comes to legality. Mycroft was always worse than Sherlock, but even Sherlock has his issues with morality. More now with his new pet."

"And I am supposed to take your word for all this?" Moriarty asked harshly, though secretly he was thrilled. He had a Holmes on his side.

"Of course not," She said with a smile. She pulled out her phone and went to the contacts. She pulled up Mycroft's number and dialed without any hesitation. She quickly turned it to speakerphone.

"Ainsley, to what do I owe this… pleasure." Mycroft answered, though judging by his voice it was anything but.

"Hello big brother. It has been a while."

"Yes. Over three years. Why are you calling? Did you finally get caught?"

"As if, I am back in London and wondered if you wanted to get lunch?"

"Ainsley, it has been three years since we last spoke and would prefer to get back to that." Mycroft said ending the call.

"So you see James, my brothers are not my biggest fans." Ainsley said sliding her phone back into her pocket. James Moriarty could no longer deny that he was excited. He smiled at her.

"Welcome to the team."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! So I rewrote this one thrice and I am finally somewhat happy with it. Hope you like it :D**

She walked into her own apartment, locking the door behind her and arming the alarm system. She hung her coat in the hall closet and made her way to her bedroom. She quickly changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed after turning out the lights.

* * *

Moriarty picked the lock in a matter of seconds. He slipped inside quietly and went to disable the alarm system went off. After figuring out how to turn it off he took his time looking around the flat. on one side of the entryway there was a small closet containing exactly four coats. There were some shoes lined up against the other side of the hall. The hallway opened up into a nicely furnished living room, though it was lacking in any personal touches. He was still poking around when Ainsley emerged from her room, pointing a gun at him.

* * *

She awoke a few hours later to the sound of someone scuffling around her house. She had always been a rather light sleeper, which came in handy when one had Sherlock for a brother. She grabbed the gun from her bedside cabinet and moved silently to the door. She listened for a minute to the person moving around her flat. They weren't particularly hurried, so it was unlikely they were here to steal anything. That left only a few possibilities of who was on the other side of that door. She opened the door and pointed the gun at the intruder.

"Really Jim? It's four in the morning." Ainsley said, lowering her gun.

"Were you going to shoot me?" Jim chuckled.

"No, but if it was Sherlock I might have. Why are you here?"

"I have a job for you."

"Could this not have waited a few hours?"

"Nope." Jim said with a grin. "I need you to convince someone to give me something."

"Could you a little more specific?"

"There is a man named Clarence Mitchell. He runs a small smuggling ring who recently came across a few sketches from Johannes Vermeer. I have always had a soft spot for Vermeer."

"So you want me to get him to give you the sketches. Why couldn't this wait until morning?"

"Because I am excited." Jim said grinning like an idiot.

"And why not just get someone to intimidate him into handing them over?" Ainsley asked, fighting a laugh at the expression on his face.

"Because I wanted to test out my new toy." He stated.

"So where do I find this guy?"

"Everything you need to know is in this folder." As he said this he handed her a thick folder she hadn't seen he was holding.

* * *

He hadn't been kidding when he'd said everything she needed to know was in the folder. It had everything from his favorite sandwich to the name and address of his kindergarten teacher. She spent a few hours sifting through the file, coming up with a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright, so sorry for the relatively long wait... I may have kinda sorta forgotten about it a bit... Anyways, the Vermeer sketches are completely fictional. Anyone who has taken an art history class knows that Vermeer didn't even sketch out his paintings first, let alone have a sketchbook. Vermeer is by far my favorite of the Dutch Masters and I recently went to go see Tim's Vermeer which was super interesting and I think everyone should go see it. Oh, also Go Radio is an awesome band and I love them and everyone should listen to them. These things all have to do with the chapter which you should read now and I will shut up, or at least stop typing.**

Ainsley sat outside the coffee shop, drinking a small coffee. If her mark was on schedule he should be arriving any minute, though there were two times last month where he hadn't come at all. Right on schedule Clarence Mitchell walked into the coffee shop. Ainsley smiled to herself. After reviewing his file she knew this would be the best possible place to 'run into' her mark. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt (from a band Clarence liked) with an oversized plaid shirt on top. As she saw him about to walk out the door she stood and walked straight into him. Her remaining coffee spilling onto both of them.

"I'm so sorry." He said quickly looking around for napkins.

"No it was my fault." She said producing some napkins from a table nearby and handing some to him. She had done this before, but she forgot how much the hot coffee stung.

"Can I buy you another coffee?" He asked tentatively.

"Oh, no it's fine."

"I insist." He stated with much more confidence.

"Alright."

"I love Go Radio," he said, gesturing to her ruined shirt as they walked back into the coffee shop. "I've never seen that shirt before. Did you make it?"

"Yeah, they didn't have any designs I liked so I made my own." Though the real reason was she needed a shirt and they didn't sell any nearby.

"It's really good."

"I should make you one!" She said enthusiastically.

"What can I get you?" The barista interrupted them. Clarence looked at her expectantly.

"I'll just have a small black coffee."

"So what's your name then?" Clarence asked her.

"I'm Sarah." She stated simply.

"Well Sarah, I am Clarence and I would love you to make me a shirt." He smiled at her and she knew she had been successful in her hook. "However, I will need your number so I can check in on the progress of my future shirt." he said, faking a serious tone.

"Well as it is obviously an imperative part of the shirt making process, I will happily give it to you." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pen. Taking a napkin from a nearby table she wrote down her mobile number and pressed it into his hand. "Call me." she said with a wink as she grabbed her coffee and left the shop. As soon as she was sure she was far enough away she pulled out her mobile.

**He's hooked -AH**

It took only a few seconds for him to respond.

**Good. Now finish the job. -JM**

* * *

Later that day, Ainsley was studying Clarence's file when her mobile started ringing. She looked at the caller ID and recognized the number as the one from the file.

"Hello?"

"Hey Sarah, It's Clarence."

"Oh, hey." She said. "If you are calling to check up on your shirt, it is nowhere near done."

"Actually," He paused, sounding slightly nervous. "I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me?" he asked uncertainly.

"I would love to!" She responded excitedly.

"Text me your address and I will pick you up at eight." He said with much more confidence.

"And how do you know I am free?" She asked teasingly.

"Are you?"

"No I am afraid I am going on a date with a very nice guy."

"Oh really?" he asked sounding disappointed.

"I am talking about you dummy."

"I knew that."

"So where are we going?"

"It's a surprise!"

"And how should I dress for this surprise?"

"Um, casual."

"Alright.

"I'll see you at eight."

"Can't wait." She replied, hanging up. She quickly typed a text to Jim.

**Going on a date tonight at eight -AH**

Again it was mere seconds before she got a reply.

**Oh I love when things progress faster than planned. -JM**

* * *

The date was going well. He had been doing his very best to impress Sarah. He had rented out his favorite little restaurant. It was by no means fancy or exclusive, but it was romantic and homely. He had asked the chef to prepare his finest dishes and from what he could tell Sarah was impressed. She seemed to like the small restaurant and the food. He was enjoying himself a lot and imagined going on many more dates with Sarah.

* * *

She had him exactly where she wanted him. He had rented out a whole restaurant to impress her. It might not have been a large restaurant, but it did have a certain charm. She listened and laughed with him, she even shared a few anecdotes of her own (they might not have actually happened, but at least she was contributing to the conversation). After dessert was finished he offered to take her home. She agreed, of course, and he paid the bill and they went outside to get a cab.

"This was fun." She said as they waited.

"It was," he paused, turning to face her. "Would it be too soon to ask you out on another date?"

"Well, I haven't even made it home yet." She said lightly moving ever so slightly forward. "I do believe you are supposed to wait until one date is over to plan the next."

"Says who?" He asked, taking a step forward so they were only centimeters apart.

"Oh, you know, people." She responded leaning in so their lips were nearly touching.

"Well screw them, are you busy tomorrow night?" He asked his breath ghosting over her lips.

"Yes. I am going on a date with a very nice guy." She said, pressing her lips to his.


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is pretty short, but I hope you like it anyways. **

The first thing Ainsley noticed when she got home was the light spilling from under her door. She unlocked it and walked inside to find her brother sitting at her kitchen table.

"Ah you are finally home." Sherlock said, turning around to face her. "How was your date?"

"I think it went well." Ainsley said with a shrug.

"And what does this unfortunate boy have that you are trying to get?"

"Some sketches my boss wants."

"Oh, so you have a boss now?"

"You already knew that." She accused.

"So I did. How is Mr. Moriarty?"

"Fine. He is rather impressed by my performance so far."

"Why wouldn't he be? You are the best grifter in London."

"Was that a compliment?" Ainsley asked, feigning surprise.

"No, it was a fact." Sherlock stated as he stood up. He began walking to the door, but he turned back with a curious expression on his face.

"What is it Sherlock?"

"Why are you working for him? You Could have built your own network, why work for him?"

"He is interesting, plus I didn't really like the whole 'self-employed' thing I had going on. It was boring." At this Sherlock nodded and left the flat without another word to his sister.

* * *

**Interesting am I? -JM**

She received the text not ten minutes after Sherlock left.

**I should have realized you would have my flat bugged. Got any cameras I should worry about? -AH**

**You are avoiding my question. -JM**

**And you are avoiding mine. -AH**

**Ah, but I am your boss. -JM**

**Alright, yes I think you are interesting. -AH**

**And what is it about me that you find so interesting? -JM**

**Is it the money? -JM**

**The power? -JM**

**My winning smile? -JM**

**Oh yes, that's it. I came to work for London's most powerful criminal because I think he has a nice smile. -AH**

**I am assuming that is sarcasm. -JM**

**How perceptive of you. -AH**

**Come on, tell me what it is. -JM**

She could practically hear him whining through the text.

**You. -AH**

**Wow thanks for that very in depth answer (look I can do sarcasm too!) -JM**

**The money, the power, and even the winning smile. What intrigues me about you is you. -AH**

**Now do I get an answer to my question? -AH**

**Yes. -JM**

**Yes I get an answer, or yes there are cameras? -AH**

**Seriously Jim which is it? -AH**

**Jim? -AH**

She waited by her phone for a while until she realized he wasn't responding anytime soon. She decided to get ready for bed. She was already under the covers when she got another text from Moriarty.

**Nice PJs ;) -JM**


	5. Chapter 5

**I am sorry is been forever! I have been super busy. The play I was in just wrapped up and we got a new puppy who doesn't like to leave my lap (which makes typing on my laptop problematic). I have also been working on my movie a lot, but here is a longer chapter than normal and a fun twist at the end :D Hope you guys like it!**

Mycroft straightened the knocker as he entered the building. He nodded to John, who was clearly leaving, and received an annoyed huff in return. He was just wondering what his brother had done now when a horrible stench met his nostrils.

"What have you done now brother mine?" Mycroft asked trying not to breath any more than necessary.

"Well, I was conducting an experiment on the rate of decay of human flesh in an enclosed environment-"

"Does 'enclosed environment' by any chance refer to that pickle jar over there?" Mycroft interrupted.

"Of course, it is airtight and impervious to most external conditions, excluding temperature. As I was saying-"

"Was it in the refrigerator?"

"Yes. The basis of my experiment was temperature differences. There is another in the cupboard. But then John-"

"Have you ever thought to mark your experiments, so that things like this wouldn't happen?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Sherlock, You are living with another person. If you want him to stay around it would help to be considerate at least once in a while."

"But-" Sherlock was silenced once again, this time by an icy glare.

"While all of this is… Fascinating, This was not why I came here. We have a problem."

"Oh, so you have finally realized Ainsley is working for Moriarty?"

"And how long have you known this?"

"Oh, just a couple of days." Sherlock stated offhandedly, though he was clearly pleased he knew something his brother hadn't.

"You didn't think to tell me because…?"

"It is far more fun to see you come to your own conclusions brother." Sherlock smirked, "Have you figured out who her mark is yet?"

"No, I am afraid I haven't."

"Well lucky for you, I have." Sherlock said excited as he walked over to the table where his laptop lay. He quickly turned it on and opened one of the folders on the desktop. In it were photos of Ainsley and a man he didn't recognise. "Clarence Mitchell. Small-time smuggler and fence. He recently came into possession of some Vermeer Sketches. Moriarty has tried to buy them, but he said he wasn't selling, so he is using Ainsley to get them." Mycroft flicked through the photos and files contained in the folder.

"Not bad Sherlock. I guess we don't have to worry about them trying to take over England just yet."

* * *

Ainsley and Clarence had now been on a total of five dates. They had all gone very well and Ainsley expected to get her hands on the sketches any day now. She figured that he would have the Sketches on display somewhere in his house, she just had to get there, drop some hints and they would be hers. Suddenly her mobile went off.

**Hey -C**

**Hey :) -S**

**I was wondering if you wanted to come over later? I can fix you dinner. Show off my excellent food ordering and arranging skills. -C**

**Haha sounds fun. What time? -S**

**7 work for you? -C**

**It's a date! -S**

Ainsley smiled to herself. She would have the sketches in no time.

**Going to his place tonight. -AH**

**You should wear the light wash jeans and the dark blue blouse with the buttons. -JM**

**Did you go through my closet? -AH**

**I like to know EVERYTHING about my employees -JM**

**Slightly creepy, but I expect nothing less of you. -AH**

**As you should. -JM**

Ainsley rolled her eyes and set down her mobile on the table as she went into her room to get changed. She put on the outfit Jim recommended and quickly twisted her hair into a simple braid. She touched up her makeup and glanced at the clock, she still had a good 30 minutes before she had to leave. Killing time she tidied her already spotless flat and checked her email. She left her flat and went out to the street to hail a cab. Quickly one pulled up and she stepped inside, but before she said the address he was already taking off down the road.

"I didn't-" She started, before realizing it was Jim driving. "Oh, hi"

"Hello Ainsley. I hope you get those sketches tonight. It has already been two and a half weeks, I can't wait forever you know." His tone of voice suggesting that something very bad would happen should she take much longer

"I know." Ainsley replied calmly, "I plan to get them by tonight, tomorrow at the latest."

"Good girl."

* * *

Clarence was showing Sarah around his flat, as their dinner hadn't arrived yet. She seemed pretty impressed by the place, but he was saving the best for last. As they walked last room he studied her face intently. He saw it light up the second she entered his private gallery. He had a pretty good collection, and he remembered her mentioning a love of Vermeer, which is why on the far wall were some framed sketches of his with large bows plastered on them.

* * *

It was far easier than she had thought. She had mentioned a few time her love of Vermeer, but thought she would have to work a little harder before he handed them over, yet here they were with bows on them.

"I remember you said you liked Vermeer and I recently acquired these, so I thought you might appreciate them more." He said with a grin on his face.

"They are amazing!" She squealed and went to kiss him.

"I figured you could take them home with you tonight, or tomorrow morning."

"Oh I can't stay the night, I have to go into work tonight."

"Oh. What time do you have to leave?" He asked, looking a little disappointed.

"I have to be there by ten."

* * *

At around 9:30 she left Clarence's and started for Moriarty's place. He wasn't driving the cab this time. When she got there she quickly picked the lock and entered his house. She didn't see him, but there were some… odd noises coming from a door down the hall.

"Jim?" She called out. After a few moments Jim exited the room covered in blood.

"Don't worry it's not mine." He said with a smirk.

"Don't really care, brought you a present." She pulled a box out of her bag. He went to reach for it. "Jim, you are covered in blood, you might at least want to wash your hands."

"Good point." He said, walking into a nearby room. "Feel free to take a seat, I will only be a minute."

"Okay." She responded going over to the living room. She heard the sound of a shower running and decided to poke around, just repaying the favor after all. He had an excellent collection of books, a box that appeared to contain a collection of petrified ears, and a few other gruesome nick-nacks. She grabbed a book at random and sat down to read it, when she heard the water stop. She opened the book, figuring she still had a few minutes.

"What are you reading?" Jim asked from behind her.

"A book called Goose Girl. You really have a thing for fairy tales don't you?" She asked turning to look at him, finding him only wearing a towel.

"Oh yes, now where are my sketches?"

"In the box on the table." She stated, not letting her surprise show on her face. "Do you need anything else, or should I go?"

"Do you find me attractive?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello friends. Sorry it is rather short, but I am already working on the next chapter so hopefully it won't be too long of a wait.**

"W-what?" Ainsley stuttered after a moment.

"Its a simple enough question," he said as he stalked towards her. "Do you find me attractive?" She paused, deciding if she should tell the truth or not.

"Yes." she stated simply, after all honesty is the best policy, particularly when it comes to murderers with keen observational skills. He studied her for a moment then broke out in a manic smile.

"Good to know. How do you feel about playing my wife at a gala this weekend? One of my biggest clients is hosting it and it seemed impolite to refuse."

"I understand the need to be polite, but why do you need a wife?"

"What king is complete without his queen? And you will be perfect. After all my... Colleagues would notice if my 'wife' were afraid of or unattracted to me."

"Alright I see no reason why not to."

"Brilliant!" He exclaimed, "We can go dress shopping tomorrow."

"We?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Well I have to make sure my wife looks presentable."

* * *

"What about this one?" Ainsley asked, slightly exasperated.

"No, the cut is wrong and there is too much beading." Ainsley sighed, this was the 23rd dress she had tried on today. Jim had found fault in all of them.

"Why don't you just pick something out?"

"Because I want it to be something you like."

"You pick something out and I will decide if I like it."

"Well if you insist." He said with a grin, springing to his feet immediately racing towards the racks of dresses. He came back a few minutes later, dress in hand. "Try this!" He said excitedly, practically shoving her and the dress into the changing room. She stepped out a little while later wearing the gown he had picked out. It was a simple olive green dress that hugged her bust and waist before tapering out. She had to admit it suited her well.

"What do you think?" She asked

"It's perfect!" He exclaimed.

**Hello again. I don't feel as if I adequately described the dress from my imagination, so I drew a rough sketch of it and made it the cover of the story. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone! I am so sorry it took so long for this update. I've been really sick for the past year or so and am only just beginning to feel like my normal self again. Hopefully that means more regular updates! I have some ideas already churning in my twisted little mind, so be prepared ;)**

* * *

**You look stunning -JM**

Ainsley had just finished with her hair when she got the message. She had decided to wear it up in a simple yet elegant updo. Now she faced the issue of finding the right jewelry. Walking into her closet she opened up the cupboard that normally housed her large collection of expensive jewelry, but now only contained a single wooden box and a note.

_Surprise- JM_

She opened the box to find a simple diamond necklace.

**So when do I get my jewelry back? -AH**

**Not even a thank you? -JM**

**Thank you. Now where's my jewelry? -AH**

**That didn't seem sincere. -JM**

**Jim! -AH**

**Oh alright I'll have it back before you get home. -JM**

**Thank you. And thanks for the necklace, it is very nice. -AH**

**No problem. After all, I need my wife to be presentable ;) -JM**

She rolled her eyes and put on the necklace. She couldn't fault him for taste, it went beautifully with the dress.

* * *

"So how long have we been married?" She asked, turning to face Jim in the limo.

"Not long, five months. Next tuesday is our six month anniversary."

"How long were we dating before we got married?"

"Eight Months, I am a very impulsive man after all. Speaking of," He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a ring box. "Here is your ring." It was a very large diamond, though simple in design. He did seem one for the simple extravagances.

"Its gorgeous." she said as he slipped it on her finger "Any other details I should know?"

"We have a cat named Isaac."

"Alrighty then."

"Here we are."

* * *

Ainsley was impressed she had been to many galas in her lifetime, but this one outshined them all. It was being held in one of Moriarty's many estates. The ballroom was huge, It had high, vaulted ceilings and a solid marble floor. Many waiters bustled about serving everyone food and champagne. Jim led her around, showing off his 'wife' to everyone. Nobody seemed to question it. It was almost amusing to her to see all of these criminals looking at Jim, who was as jovial as ever, and noticing the barely concealed fear in their eyes. Clearly they had had experience with Jim's darker side. They were followed closely by Seb, Jim's favorite bodyguard, as they went around greeting everyone and keeping up with the small talk. They stopped to talk to a burly italian man with a thick accent accompanied by a beautiful, if very frail, woman.

"James my friend" the man said, slapping Jim on the shoulder in a way that was a little too hard to be friendly.

"Gianni, how are you old friend?" Jim asked politely, "Who is this lovely lady you have with you tonight?" He asked, this time turning to smile and the frail woman all but clinging to Gianni's arm.

"This is my fiancee Isabella," he said somehow managing to pull the woman closer to him. "and is this your wife I have heard so much about?" he asked turning to look at Ainsley for the first time.

"Yes, pleasure to meet you. I am sure Jim has mentioned you." Ainsley said without waiting for Jim to say anything. She then realized that if Jim had been telling people about his wife he may have given her a name.

"You talk to your wife about work?" Gianni asked, surprised.

"It's hard not to, seeing as she works with me. Simply can't keep her away from the action, isn't that right Ainsley?" He asked turning to Ainsley and pulling her to his side, much as Gianni had done with Isabella moments before.

"Why what fun is life without a bit of crime sprinkled in?" She stated with a wink, Gianni laughing heartily at her comment.

"This one is definitely a keeper James." They talked a bit more before Jim excused them to walk around a bit more.

"So how did you get away for so long without mentioning your wife's name?" Ainsley asked him in a hushed tone.

"I didn't, I told them my wife's name was Ainsley."

"Odd choice in name. I am the only one I know."

"Me too."

"But this was all before we met."

"I am a criminal mastermind," he said with a sly smile "I'd done my research on Sherlock, so of course I had heard whispers of the elusive third Holmes. I must admit I had heard of your work before we met."

"So obviously that explains why you named your fictional wife after me."

"Doesn't it?" he rolled his eyes at her "I had slightly romanticized the idea of _the great Ainsley Holmes_."

"Yet you didn't know me when we first met." Ainsley accused

"Well the most recent photo of you I could find was in grade school. It was almost to the point that I was convinced you were either dead or fictional."

"I must admit I do find it fitting that I am the one to play your wife."

"I _may _have been planning this since we met." Jim said tilting his head to the side slightly.

"I see," She laughed "What would my brothers say if they knew?" She said her hand covering her chest in mock distress.

"Knowing Mycroft, I am sure they already do."

"You have a point there, Husband." she said lowering her hand as they continued to walk around, though still lost in thought imaging Sherlock's face seeing her arm-in-arm with his self-proclaimed nemesis. Surprised? Probably not, he was rarely surprised and he never let it show on his face. Afraid? Once again unlikely, though he undoubtedly knew the trouble the two of them could cause him he would likely be more excited than afraid by that prospect. Betrayed? Maybe, that was a look she seen once before when she first ran away from home, but it wasn't likely it would happen again. Disappointed? More than likely, after all that was the face he reserved just for her. The disappointment her brothers seemed to share when it came to her. Personally, she didn't get it, so what if she received some expensive gifts from some more-than-wealthy people in some not some straightforward ways? There are a lot worse things she could be doing, though she supposed she was now arm-in-arm with the very embodiment of all those other things she could be doing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Woo! Less than a year and already a new chapter! I decided to include a snidbit of the backstory that currently only exists in my head, though I have hinted at it throughout the story. In this little snidbit (I like that word (is it a word?)) Ainsley is about seven, Sherlock 12-ish and Mycroft late teens. I imagine little Sherlock to be an absolute shit, so I hope you enjoy it. **

* * *

She had never really fit in with her family. Which was not to say she was any less talented than her brothers, she just used her gifts… differently. While her brothers always were competing to see who could figure the most out about a given object or person (they called it deductions, she called it boring), she was more focused on using it to her advantage. People could never say no to her if she played them just right. She knew that, unlike her brothers seemed to think, logic didn't work with everyone. However, a smile here, a tear there and they were putty in her hands. She couldn't remember the last time someone had said no to her, even her brothers weren't totally resistant to her ploys, but there were only so many things she needed from them, from all the simple people she was surrounded with. She wanted to be able to branch out, find new challenges new things she could get her hands on. Here she was limited, out there there were no limits. The only thing truly keeping her from leaving were her brothers, after all they were practically bloodhounds. Were she to leave, they would undoubtedly just drag her back. Them and their morals. So instead she had to plan, outsmart her older brothers and escape from right under their noses. They were like the dragons in those fairytales her mother used to read to her when she was very young, guarding the princess in her tower. Only she wasn't going to wait around for some boring Prince Charming to come and rescue her, not when she was perfectly capable herself. She knew her brothers thought she was simple like their parents, but they were wrong. Them underestimating her was a huge part of their plan. She opened the door slowly, walking into the library. She saw her brothers where they always were, curled up in the armchairs by the fireplace turning simple board games into intense games of strategy. She walked up to them, tugging on Mycroft's sleeve.

"What is it Ainsley?" He asked barely sparing her a glance as he moved his piece along the board.

"Can you read me a story?" She asked in her sweetest voice.

"You know how to read." Sherlock stated simply, pulling another card from the deck.

"But it's more fun when he does it," Ainsley whined "He's a better reader." a teensy bit of flattery and a whole lot of pathetic, often the best combination when it came to her eldest brother.

"In a moment." Mycroft conceded, were it anyone else it might have been a dismissal, but from her brother it was practically a proclamation of love. Sherlock rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed she would be stealing him away again. Though he didn't care to admit it, Sherlock looked up to his brother and wanted to learn from him. Ainsley didn't know who he was trying to hide it from, if she knew, Mycroft definitely knew. She squealed in excitement, giving her brother a peck on the cheek and going to find a suitable book. Walking around the large room she passed by the small shelf of children's books she had outgrown years ago and found a large volume, almost too large for her to carry, all but dragging it back to her brother. They were almost done with their game, Mycroft clearly about to win. Sure enough on his next move Mycroft won, much to Sherlock's chagrin. To most people Candyland was simple fun, but with these two it was practically war.

"I got a book big brother." Ainsley said, dragging the large volume to where Mycroft was sitting. "Sherlock are you gonna stay and listen too?" Ainsley asked innocently already knowing his answer.

"No," He scoffed. "Only babies need someone to read to them." he finished as he stormed out of the room. Mycroft chuckled a bit at his brother's antics, then looked down at the book in his lap.

"This one again?" He said calmly, barely concealing the disdain on his face. He opened the book nonetheless.

* * *

She was snapped out of her revery by the sound of the front door opening. About time, she thought to herself she had been waiting for at least an hour and she was not a patient girl. She listened to the footsteps ascending the stairs and realized it was not her brother coming home, but rather his pet. A smile spread across her face. She was certain Sherlock wouldn't have mentioned her, which meant she could have a bit of fun before her brother got back home.

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**I was originally going to include her 'fun' in this chapter, but I do love the suspense. See you in a few days ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Yay an even quicker update! I got excited with a little plan I have going on in my head and I figured I may as well just post it now, because if I wait I'll probably forget and now this is a run on sentence, well it was a run on sentence a while ago, but I don't really care, because I am a run on sentence, well not actually, I am a person, you know with a face and stuff and I am mostly just continuing this because I can.**

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John blinked in surprise upon opening the door and finding the young woman in his living room. He barely had time to register her presence before she flung herself on him, resting her head on his shoulder and… crying? John stood there in bewilderment for a second, before wrapping a consoling arm around her. He figured she was another client. Mrs. Hudson must have let her up and forgot to mention it to him. After a few moments she pulled back wiping her eyes with an apologetic smile tugging on her lips. As she stood back he noticed that she was taller than him, not by much, maybe a few inches. She was dressed simply, a pair of black jeans and a navy top, with her hair down around her shoulders, a few curls escaping to cover her face. She was clearly distraught.

"I'm sorry" She said as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

"It's no problem," He replied "Sherlock won't be back for a bit, would you like some tea?"

"That would be lovely." She smiled back at him.

"You can sit over there, won't be a minute." The girl did as instructed and he went to the kitchen and busied himself making tea, cursing quietly when he found another of Sherlock's 'experiments' where the sugar should be. "So what's your name?" He called over to the girl, looking over his shoulder as he addressed her, only to find she was only a few feet away.

"Sorry I didn't mean to startle you, I heard you cursing and came to help." She smiled softly, looking at the ground. "My name is Ashley by the way." She added as an afterthought.

"It's fine, just Sherlock and his odd habits." He said with a reassuring smile. "So what brings you here, if you don't mind me asking."

"It's a rather long story," She sighed, her smile fading away.

* * *

He was eating it up. She was telling him some sob story about a missing brother. It wasn't entirely untrue, she hadn't seen her brother in almost a month, though that wasn't really abnormal. They had moved to the couch, she sat in the corner, turned towards where John sat, with her legs pulled in close to her chest. She clutched her cup of tea in both hands, her knuckles white, as if this was a hard story to tell. She allowed a few more tears to slip down her cheeks as she stared into the depths of her tea cup. She felt the couch shift as he moved to wipe the tears from her face. She gasped softly when he touched her face, and looked up at him with her teary eyes. She had him. He was very close at this point, maybe a few inches away. She knew he was going to kiss her, even if he himself wasn't totally sure.

"John!" Sherlock shouted from the doorway, startling John, causing him to jump off the couch. Sherlock turned to glare at Ainsley.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, barely keeping the venom out of his voice. John opened his mouth, probably to explain her sob story, but was interrupted by her laughing. He turned his head in confusion, the once crying girl showed hardly any signs of the distress that had plagued her moments ago.

"I just came to say hi Sherlock," Ainsley said as though her intentions were obvious.

"Sherlock," John began, turning back to look at him. "Who is she?"

"Honestly Sherlock, I am a little offended you didn't tell him about me. I thought after our little meeting last month you would have warned him to look out for big bad Ainsley Holmes, and even after Mycroft told you to be more considerate towards John." She said shaking her head. "I thought you would have learned by now."

"You have a sister?" John asked, clearly annoyed. "Why didn't you tell me about her? Oh what am I talking about, you never tell me anything." Ainsley yawned loudly.

"Jim wasn't kidding you two really do fight like an old married couple."

"Jim, as in Moriarty?" He questioned, eyes widening at the thought a Holmes would willingly talk to the criminal.

"Yep," Ainsley said, finally leaving her spot on the couch and pointed at Sherlock. "See my big brothers don't like to talk about me, because I'm kind of the black sheep of the family." She stage-whispered the last part to John. "First I run away from home, then I go on a 'crime' spree across the continents, and now I am working for the notorious James Moriarty." John stood there a bit stunned.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Sherlock asked, his tone hinting at his true feelings towards her unexpected appearance.

"Can't I just come say hi to my big brother?" Ainsley's voice was sickly sweet as she put on her most innocent face.

"Knowing you, no." Sherlock stated flatly.

"Clearly you know me!" Ainsley said brightly. "Jim is having a little 'welcome to the network' slash 'congrats on the first job' dinner for me inviting a few other people and we thought it would be so great if my big brothers decided to come too! Mycroft already said he wouldn't be attending, but I know how well you and Jimmy get along, so I hoped you would come." She asked looking at him with pleading eyes.

"No." Sherlock replied quickly.

"Okay," Ainsley said simply, turning to leave. She reached the door before looking back. "Oh, I almost forgot, Jim said if you were unwilling to attend he might just make you." she laughed darkly. "He said if you don't come, plenty of people will surely die to get in." She stated letting the door close behind her as she began to descend the stairs. She reached the front door before she heard Sherlock's voice from the top of the stairs.

"I'll go"

"Oh Jim will be so pleased! Feel free to bring your pet along, he is cute." She finished with a wink, walking out into the cold London air.

He'll come -AH

Oh goody! To bad I don't have an excuse to kill a few people. -JM

Do you really need an excuse? -AH

Well no, but it does make things more fun ;) -JM


End file.
